


I was supposed to protect you

by shelikescookies



Series: Cookie's Whumptober 2019 [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blood, Fear, Gen, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Serious Injuries, Whumptober, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-23 18:56:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20894498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shelikescookies/pseuds/shelikescookies
Summary: Whumptober 2019 — Day 10: UnconsciousJon couldn't lose Damian. He was his best friend, his everything! And he got hurt because he wasn't paying attention! He's half kryptonian, it was hisjobto take care of his bat!And he failed. And now he's going to lose one of the most important people in his life.





	I was supposed to protect you

Stupidstupidstupidstupidstupid_stupid_!! 

How could he be so dumb?! 

One second they were having the upper hand against a small army of robot-clones-whatever they were, and the next he heard Damian scream in pain. A noise that was almost canceled by the ear deafening bang of a gunshot. 

Jon only remembered going into a rampage, punching the robots to pieces and melting them all to the ground. The bad guy who shot unfortunately got away, but as Damian tumbled to the ground, Jon found that man could wait. 

He will find him later. But first he had to take care of his friend! 

Rushing to him in the blink of an eye was fast enough to catch him before Damian could fall. His face was contorted in pain and he pressed his hands to the wound on his chest, dangerously close to his lungs. The clogging scent of iron rapidly filled the air and Jon was starting to panic. 

"What do I do? _What do I do_!", he repeated, eyes tearing up. He didn't dare to touch Damian beside holding him up and his friend grew heavier with every passing second. 

"Idiot…" Damian rasped, coughing up blood that dripped down the side of his mouth. "Home—" 

"Y-yeah, of course!" Jon wrapped his arms around Damian and holding him half in a bridal carry and half like a baby. "H-hold on, okay?" 

Instead of answering Damian sighed before he slumped against him, head resting heavily on his shoulder. Jon stiffened and held his breath. Straining his hearing to listen for a heartbeat. Thank God, it was still beating, albeit very weakly and the wet warmth soaking through his shirt was reminding of the gravity of this situation. 

Jon was in the air immediately and was approaching Wayne Manor fast. On the way he didn't notice that tears were rolling down his cheeks and how close he pressed Damian's limp body to him. 

By the time he landed in front of the manor Jon was openly sobbing and the pulse he felt under his fingers was growing weaker and weaker. 

Jon couldn't lose Damian. He's his best friend, his everything! And he got hurt because he wasn't paying attention! He's half kryptonian, it was _his_ job to take care of his bat! 

And he failed. And now he's going to lose one of the most important people in his life. 

Just as Jon dashed to the front door, it opened and out came Tim and Conner, joking about something, with his brothers arm around his smaller boyfriend. But the moment they pushed the door open, Conner tensed, focusing on Jon right away and Tim followed his gaze, momentarily confused. He understood instantly. 

"H-help me—", Jon cried and even if he wanted whoever to take care of Damian, his grip on him didn't lessen one bit, clutching him to his chest like _his_ life depended on it. 

Tim cursed under his breath and put his hand on Conner's arm to grab his attention. 

"Kon. Cave. _Now._" Tim ordered Conner and before Jon knew it, Damian was taken from his hold and his brother was gone. 

Blind panic rose up in him again and he began to hyperventilate, immediately trying to rush after Kon, but Tim's hands on his shoulders kept him grounded. 

"What happened?", Tim asked, looking into his eyes. Jon could barely see. Everything was blurry. When he didn't answer, Tim tightened his hands. "Talk to me, Jon. I need to know what happened." 

"He — we, we… were fi-fighting and… robots, t-then… Damian was— he was — it's my fault! I didn't — I wasn't enough and, and he got hurt!" Jon sobbed and put his face in his hands. "He got shot and I wasn't fast enough! It's my fault, I'm sorry! I-I'm so, so sorry!" 

Tim watched the crying child for a moment before he pulled him close and held him in a embrace, not caring if any of the blood got on his clothes. He let Jon cry into his neck and with his brows drawn together, he noticed Kon coming back, t-shirt also wet from Damian's blood. 

He didn't have to ask as Kon provided, "Batman is taking care of him, Dick is helping." Even if Kon wasn't close to Damian and Damian's unapologetic dislike of the teen, he still seemed worried. The injury must've been pretty bad after all. 

"You did great, Jon," Tim attempted to console the boy shaking in his arms, "you brought him back straight away. Thank you." 

If Jon heard him, he didn't show it. He was still crying too hard to listen to Conner. Not wanting to stay out in the cold the whole night, and finding he couldn't detach Jon from his him even if he wanted to, Tim lifted the boy up and carried him into the manor, closely followed by Conner. 

Together they made their way to the cave, knowing Jon would not rest until he was certain Damian was safe. 

Arriving at the med-station, Jon calmed down to occasional hiccups and he turned his head to look for Damian. Damian was lying unconscious on an operating table, oxygen mask on his face, hooked up to a bunch of monitors, one beeping in a steady if accelerated rhythm. Jon didn't care for that monitor as he preferred to listened to Damian's heartbeat in his chest itself. 

The sight of his best friend just lying there, unconscious while his family quickly tended to his wound, was almost too much for him. 

_He'll make it he'll make it he'll make it,_ echoed in Jon's head, trying to make him believe. 

_It's my fault it's my fault it's my fault_, crawled it's way into his mind, corrupting his faith. 

Jon buried his face back in the crook of Tim's neck. 

_It's my fault. _


End file.
